


Outtakes

by Beeexx



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Cuddles, M/M, Sharing a Bed, daily life, soft, talking and lots of talking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beeexx/pseuds/Beeexx
Summary: Outtakes from their life shared together.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s early Saturday morning, the sun shining in through the window. It paints the room in a soft glowing colour. Theo is awake, and for once so is Boris. Boris is looking at him and it makes Theo feel self conscious.

“What?”

Boris shrugs, but slowly, very slowly reaches forward. Theo’s eyes automatically fall shut, he knows what’s coming. But Boris doesn’t kiss him like he’s expecting him to. He leans forward and rests his forehead on Theo’s. He hums. Theo’s hand finds Boris’ hair. It’s soft, like the way it is in the mornings, before Boris gets up and spends time on it. Boris’s eyes close and Theo smiles at the sight. He likes this the best, the two of them, alone. When it’s quiet and the world is not fully awake yet. He likes existing then. It reminds him of Antwerp in many ways. Of not leaving bed for days straight, of existing there. In a world that didn’t really feel real until they made it real. And that landed them here in a small apartment in New York. And now it’s an ordinary Saturday morning where Theo has nowhere to be. Boris places a kiss on Theo’s upper lip, it brings Theo back from his wandering thoughts. 

“You’re still staring.”

“Thinking.”

“Of?”

Boris shrugs. Theo leaves him. Sometimes it’s like that, Boris off in his own world. He’s a talker usually, but he’s a thinker too. Theo knows. Maybe they both are.

But he gets impatient and tilts his head slightly forward, asking for Boris to kiss him. Boris’s lip twitches, but he obeys. It’s been a while since Antwerp. It’s been even longer since Vegas. And Theo doesn’t have many coherent memories of kissing Boris then. He’s not even sure they ever did. Apart from when he was leaving. But Antwerp, it brought the change. In many different ways. It was slightly awkward at first. So many years apart with no touch that it was like they didn’t know each other at all. So that’s what they did. Re-learned what it was like to be close again. Mapping out each other’s bodies, kissing until their lips were sore. And barely leaving the bed for days straight. And now kissing has a new meaning. Kissing has always felt foreign to Theo. Like he doesn’t know what he is supposed to do, how he is supposed to feel. He didn’t realise it was supposed to feel like this. But he understands now. And the truth is he’s been missing out. He hums and tightens his grip in Boris’s hair, wanting him closer, closer still. Boris strokes his cheek and moves, slowly forward to get a better angle. The pace quickens without feeling hurried, like they have all the time in the world. Boris’s hand leaves his cheek and travels down. It finds the hem of Theo’s shirt, asking for permission. Theo nods against Boris’s lip and bites down playfully. Boris snorts but gets the shirt off. His hand rests on Theo’s waist and Theo disentangles himself, for a second only, to get Boris’s shirt off too. Once it’s on the floor somewhere he pulls Boris closer. Sometimes he feels like he can never be close enough to him. He wants to feel all of him. Bury himself there and stay. 

\-----------

Boris is dozing off. Theo knows he’s awake though, for now. His hand is in his hair, stroking. Theo’s resting his head on his chest, listening to his heart. He looks at the tattoo, just under Boris’s heart. A Goldfinch. Boris’s hand stills, his breathing slowing. Theo smiles. His fingers find Boris’s ribs, he starts stroking. He can feel the unevenness of a scar there but it’s been covered up by a tattoo. It’s in russian, but Theo knows it says Alive. He doesn’t know the meaning of it though. He’s never really thought to ask. Boris has many tattoos but Theo likes them all, it fits him. Individually they tell a story about who Boris have been, where he’s been and how he’s been throughout his life. And together they make up all the small, different, and mysterious pieces that make him Boris. Boris has a T on one of his knuckles. It’s small, but it’s there. Theo’s kissed him there many times, like a homage to when they were young. When Boris had kissed his bloody knuckles. Now it’s not violent though. Not like it always used to be. Not like their touches always were imbued by. They were soft at times, but it always carried a rushing sensation to them, and the violence always came sooner or later. Now it’s always with care. Always with want. 

Theo reaches forward and places a kiss to Boris’s Alive tattoo. Boris twitches and Theo repeats the motion. His fingers tighten in Theo’s hair. Awake. Theo doesn’t stop, he kisses again and then lets his tongue continue the motion. He moves higher up, kissing and licking as he goes. He stops by the goldfinch and Boris hums. He gives him a moment. But only that. And then he kisses Boris’s heart again and again and again until Boris groans.

“Potter…” There is a warning there. Theo smirks and doesn’t stop. Boris opens his eyes and finally rolls them over. Theo grounds himself there, Boris pressing him into the mattress. 

“You do not give up.” Boris says and reaches down to press a kiss to Theo’s neck. His pulse flutters at the touch. Theo places a hand on Boris’s back, pressing him down. Boris starts sucking, Theo gasps. He will have to wear something to cover up the bruise that it will leave. He can’t be bothered to care too much.

\------------

Theo is lying on his front, Boris half on top of him. His hand stroking his back, his head resting by Theo’s shoulders. 

“Do you ever think about us not meeting?” Theo asks. Boris’s hand stills. It takes him some time to answer.

“I do not like thinking about it, but from time to time, yes.”

“What do you think you would be doing now if you hadn’t met me?”

“I’d probably be dead.”

“Boris- …..” Theo starts.

“No Potter, is true. You save me, many times and I am alive now. More alive than ever thanks to you.”

Theo is silent.

“Do you think it was fate that had us meeting then?”

“Maybe, who knows. But some higher power surely.”

“And now we’re here.”

“Here we are.” Boris’s hand continues its stroking. Theo shudders. 

“Do you remember the day we first saw each other?” Theo doesn’t know where all this is coming from. But everything feels calm and soft and he has not had coffee yet. His brain has been left to run freely.

“I will never forget it.”

“Mrs. Spear, english class, you sat behind me. You called someone a twat. I thought you were cool, you wouldn’t want to hang with me.” He confesses. Boris snorts.

“Not first time I saw you.”

Theo frowns.

“Huh?”

“Not the first time I saw you. I saw you before. You were short and angry. And you wore glasses, like Harry Potter. But mostly I saw you being alone, like me. I remember that about you.”

“You never said anything.”

“You never asked Potter. And we are here now. Is what matters.”

“Huuum.” Theo closes his eyes. Maybe Boris is right.

Boris kisses down his back and Theo’s hand fists in the sheets. The sun is still shining in through the window. New York is waking up around them. But they still have time. Time to be. 

\-------

It’s a lot later when they finally make it out of bed. The coffee machine is running, Boris is singing from the shower and Theo is making breakfast. He likes it when life is like this. Not rushed and they can take their own time. Boris emerges from the bathroom some time later, his hair still wet. He’s wearing one of those stupid printed shirts Theo hates. Boris steals a tomato off Theo’s plate, chews loudly an obnoxiously and Theo rolls his eyes. Boris has a bunch of his own tomatoes on his own plate. He leaves them untouched and opts to eat Theo’s instead.

“Mrs. Barbour has invited us for tea later.” Theo says and takes a sip of his coffee. Boris is sitting on the counter, eating from his own plate. 

“What time?”

“Around 3.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Boris goes back to eating. Theo takes another sip of his coffee and he thinks about how lucky he really is. He’s not one to take anything for granted. Life has taught him that hard lesson many times. But this, what he has right here in this apartment feels like something good. Something to hold tight to. He and Boris, they’ve never done anything by the books. They’ve done everything their own way. And that’s how it’s supposed to be for them because it led them right here. To a life where Popchik is waiting impatiently by Theo’s foot to be taken for a walk, where there is clean laundry to fold, where there is Boris to crawl into bed with every night. Where Theo feels at peace for the first time since his mother died. 

“Potter, get out of your head. Our dog is waiting to be taken for a walk.” Boris says through a mouth full of food. Theo snorts, but kisses Boris on the cheek and gets ready to face a sunny New York. He’ll let Boris’s comment slip, for now.

“Love you Potter!” He hears before he closes the door. 

Theo smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Boris's pov this time around. 
> 
> Sometimes Boris's can't sleep....
> 
> Some warnings for this chapter just in case. Brief mentions of drugs and alcohol as well as suicide. Depression and general unhappiness. It's not a unhappy chapter per say but there are mentions of these things just in case you don't want to read it :)

Theo is fast asleep. His breathing is even and his face smushed into the pillow. Boris wishes he could join him wherever he is in his dream land. But it’s one of those nights where he knows that if he falls asleep his mind will go to scary places. Those are places he’s not very keen on visiting, and the aftermath of screaming himself awake in the dark isn’t something he wishes to experience again. But if he sleeps now the screaming will be unavoidable, he knows, he always knows when it comes down to it. It always happens. Popchik seems to be able to feel him being on edge tonight because he’s not fallen asleep either. Instead he’s curled himself close to Boris’s face and is looking at him with big big eyes. Theo and him really did ruin this dog’s sleeping schedule when they were young. He looks at Theo again. He’s different when he sleeps. He always has been. He’s more open, and he looks young and soft. Even peaceful at times. He doesn’t frown either. Not that Boris minds the frowning, he kind of loves it. But in his sleep he’s all soft edges, rather than the hard ones he’s constantly projecting to the outside world. He’s more vulnerable too, and Boris likes looking at it because it’s just meant for him. 

But there were many nights in Vegas where Boris was scared to fall asleep, scared to let himself rest. Scared he would wake up to an empty bed and Potter somewhere else, lying dead somewhere. Somewhere where Boris’s couldn’t save him. Where he couldn’t protect him. Theo never knew of course, he was a flat out drunk and never remembered what he had said or done. But Boris still remembers being scared Theo would go somewhere where Boris couldn’t follow. They’ve never really talked about it either after that one time. But there was a night, just after they came back from Antwerp where Boris had such a bad nightmare of Theo dying that when he woke up he wasn’t sure he was even awake. Theo had reached for him, and Boris had very nearly socked him right in the face. He didn’t want a rehash of that, ever again. He has too many memories etched into him of Theo and violence. They don’t go together anymore and the thought of hurting Theo now, even in a hazy dream induced state unsettles him too deeply. It makes him feel a little sick. It’s not who they are anymore. 

But the nightmare had crept up on him and caught him off guard. Now he’s more aware of the signs, and so he doesn’t let it happen. He reaches for Theo, strokes him over his cheek. He’s angled towards Boris in his sleep, he always is. He needs the touch, Boris knows. He lets Theo have it, of course. He understands it. But he doesn’t say anything about it either for Theo’s own benefit. He picked up on it fairly quick after they moved in together. Theo breathes a little easier when Boris is close and Boris doesn’t mind. 

His eyes finds the fading bruise on Theo’s chest. He’d left it there earlier tonight. And while Boris is the one who usually checks out after sex, Theo was the one to do it tonight. Boris had been particularly insistent on picking Theo apart this night. He wouldn’t let up, and Theo had been shaking and breathing so hard afterwards he’d struggled to form words. Boris was kind of proud of that. Theo is strung high most of the days, he’s only really relaxed with Boris. But even then he can sometimes struggle to really let things go. So Boris’s made it his personal mission to make him as relaxed as he can from time to time. This had been one of those nights. But Theo can be relentless too when he’s in the right mood. It happens from time to time and when it does he refuses to let up. Boris is not a beggar, he doesn’t beg for anything in life. He never has. Except when it comes to Theo. And Theo of course knows that, so Boris will swallow his pride and say “Theo please” and Theo will smirk and say “That wasn’t so hard was it?”, but he’ll take pity on Boris and do something with his hand or his tongue, just the one thing it was missing and finally Boris will be able to get his release. It’s not what he thought sex would be like that with Theo. He’d never really imagined what it would be like, never really dared to, but he imagined it more rushed and a lot of touches, bordering on too much. And while it is like that at times, it’s also not. He likes that too. He likes that Theo has the capacity to surprise him, so it shouldn’t be surprising that it extends to sex too. 

But he can’t lie here any longer, it’s just too much. He brushes some of Theo’s escaping hair back and gathers Popchik up. He doesn’t even complain. He pulls a T-shirt over his head, Theo’s. It smells distantly like smoke and his aftershave and walks into the living room and buries himself under a blanket. Popchik lies on top of it and seems to settle. He puts the TV on. He doesn’t care what, he just needs something to distract him. Reruns of Friends are on and he leaves the volume on low. It shouldn't wake Theo. Nights like this, when sleep doesn’t come and there is an itching to his skin that won’t go away, he really wishes he could take the edge off. But he’s stopped drinking and with the drugs too. He couldn’t find a reason, not really, when he found his way back to Theo. It didn’t feel right. And it was always about Theo anway. Of missing a limb, a part of him that had been detached with Theo leaving, always missing him. His touch, his smell, his frown. He couldn’t go so many years without something, so in Theo’s absence he needed something to take the edge off. More than when he was with Theo. But he didn’t see the point of doing it anymore. And that had been hard, very fucking hard. But he’d done harder things in life, and if quitting heroine was the thing he had to do to be together with Theo, that choice was easy. But sometimes he really really misses it. They don’t drink much these days either. From time to time they will, but they both know what they are like and how easy it is to fall back into patterns of misuse. It was always really a pattern of unhappiness for both of them. It started as an excuse to escape it all, to feel different, or maybe to feel something else in the dry landscape of Vegas. Of being able to cope with the world that was harsh, to bring some colours to it. Or maybe in the end it was just an escape to not stay locked inside your own head for too long. But even so, it had slowly progressed into something none of them could go without. It was not good. Not healthy and it made what Boris felt for Theo, when he was 16 and starved feel like something dirty. Something that couldn’t be done once one was sober. He much prefered loving Theo in the light, when his head was clear and his mind fully present, when it was free of restraints and regret, rather than in the dark where it was hushed and hurried and at times violent. He might have thought he liked it then, that it was how it was supposed to be. Boris’s learnt better since and he doesn’t regret the Vegas years, but he looks back at it with a sort of distance now, how stupid he had been, how stupid they both had been. But they probably weren’t ready for it either. They found their way back to each other in the end. It’s what counts. And now they are both sober. Loving Theo sober is better anyway. It’s what love should be like, not that he’s an expert, but he can understand it now. 

It doesn’t take long for Theo to come wander after him. He wears his glasses but his hair has been left a mess. He’s frowning too like he does when he’s annoyed at Boris. Or maybe it’s worry? Boris sometimes doesn’t know the difference. Having someone worry about you is hard to accept when you’ve lived too much of your life only caring about yourself. Well, he always did care about Theo, but it had a distance to it for many years, where he didn’t have to see him every day and it wasn’t so constant. But having someone worry about you in close quarters is a foreign feeling to him. At the age of 31 he’s still learning things.

“Move over.” Theo grunts. He disposes of the duvet he’s carried from the bedroom and it lands on Boris’s head. He flails and and tries to find his way out of it. And when Boris finally finds his way out again Popchik is barking unhappily from his lap, glaring at Theo who is innocently watching the TV. Boris huffs but decides to get comfortable instead of complaining, he sees no point at the moment. They sit in silence, the blue light from the TV paints the room in artificial colours, it’s weird. It reminds Boris of the pool in Vegas and how the moon was their constant companion throughout it all, when they were out of their minds and lying on the ground. Boris thinks Theo looks the most beautiful in this kind of light. It’s another memory etched into his brain that he can’t get out, he never has been able to, even after so many years.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Boris doesn’t move, but he cannot help the surprise he feels in the moment brought on by the question. Theo usually doesn’t ask. Boris doesn’t ask either. And right now Theo is stubbornly staring at the television, his eyes glued to the screen, but Boris thinks he can detect and edge of nervousness anyway. Theo doesn’t ask, he never does.

Why is he suddenly doing it now?

“Is nothing Potter.” Plays it off, plays it safe. This is not what they do.

Theo nods.

“Okay….but you can talk to me if you want.”

“I always talk.”

Theo’s lip twitches.

“Sometimes you don’t.”

“Sometimes you don’t either.”

“Only when I don’t know what to say.”

“So maybe I don’t know what to say.”

“You usually do…”

Boris doesn’t answer. He looks back at the TV and strokes a sleeping Popchik. Theo finds his hand, but he doesn’t press anymore. 

Boris lets the sound of the television drown everything out, wash it all off and out of him. He doesn’t want to think. Not about the lurking dreams or Theo dying or dark parts of his past that like playing malicious games with him. He’s not going to say anything because this is not what they do. 

When they were young they used to fight with their fists when it got too much. When all of Boris’s mind screamed to touch Theo. Touch, touch, touch and he was overcome by the need to do it. He wouldn’t. Not in the way he wanted. A slap to the face, a punch to the nose, a kick to the chins. Violent and harsh. But not the way he wanted. 

There’s a similar itching now brought out by Theo’s concern and the glaring 3AM from the TV and the stress and uneasiness and the messed up parts of him. It bubbles up and then he can’t stop.

“Sometimes I worry you will leave me Potter.”

Theo’s stroking of his hand doesn’t stop, nothing even changes by Boris’s confession. The world goes on and Theo doesn’t look like he’s heard him, but Boris cannot suddenly stop.

“I am scared sometimes.”

“I’m not going to leave you Boris.” Theo says softly but doesn’t look at him yet.

“No not like that Potter. You do not understand, you do not remember. You are lucky that way, the alcohol did you favour when it helped you forget. But I remember the pleas of dying, the ‘leave me Boris’ the ‘I cannot take it anymore’ the ‘make it stop’. Is not your fault but I remember and it scares me now.”

Theo looks at him then and Boris wants to look away. Only he can’t because Theo’s face is now fully illuminated by the blue light and he face almost glows. It’s scary but also beautiful and serene, a weird combination of emotions that don’t go together, tangled in heaps of unhappiness and joy.

Theo frowns.

“I’m sorry…?”

“Is not your fault, I already said. Nothing to apologize for. But I can’t sleep when I know my brain will play tricks on me where you die and I can’t follow or help and I am left alone and I don’t like it.”

“Okay.” Theo says softly. He cups Boris’s cheek and brings their heads close together. It’s something they do in moments that are stressful and big, to give each other a little bit of comfort in uncertainty. Boris closes his eyes, breathes in and out and then he leans back. He’s okay. 

“You wanna smoke?” Theo asks. Boris thinks it over. There should be some weed left somewhere in a drawer in the apartment. ‘Emergency use only’, the box where they keep the forbidden stuff. 

“No, I’m good for now.” He wants to be in the moment, lucid and not languid. Languid will make his brain go to places he can’t control. If he’s sharp and fully aware he is still in control and it’s the control he wants, not the lack of it.

“Okay.” Theo picks up the remote and changes the channel.

“I can’t watch any more of that drabbel, it hurts my head.”

“Comedy hurts your head?”

“If it’s bad then yes. And Friends is bad.”

“It is the most popular sitcom ever, as you Americans like to call it.”

“Well the whole of America is clearly wrong.”

Boris chuckles despite himself and Theo looks smug, he tries to hide it but Boris knows all of Theo’s tells. 

He briefly wonders if that’s what this is about, Boris’s ability to read Theo but Theo’s inability to sometimes do the same. Boris has an advantage, he’s had it for years. But Theo even as young has always been something of an open book to Boris. He craved contact, caring and softness. Intimacy. But even though Boris couldn’t always provide it he understood most of the time what was needed. Boris is different in his needs, if he’s upset it’s not touch he wants. That makes his skin crawl, uneasiness and touch makes him think of his father and of pain. They don’t work together for him. He doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like to think too closely about being vulnerable when the reward is a punch to the face. No thanks. He will pass.

“I love you, you know.” Theo doesn’t say it often, doesn’t like the words or something like that. He mocks them almost, scoffs and rolls his eyes most of the time. Boris of course knows that it’s mostly a front, a way for Theo to protect his heart. But deep down of course Boris knows Theo loves him, even when he doesn’t say the words often. He shows it in different ways, it’s all about the small gestures that makes Boris understand that it’s Theo’s own way of showing he cares. And they always had their own language anyway. Forged from a bond stronger than most, so Boris understand without it having to be said.

But from time to time Boris likes it when Theo says it.

“Me too, I love you.” Boris brings their intertwined hands together and kisses his palm. Theo smiles.

“Are we sleeping out here then?” Theo asks. Boris nods, he doesn’t feel like moving back to the bedroom tonight.

“You owe me a massage tomorrow then, this couch is not made for sleeping.” He wiggles, trying to get comfortable.

“Of course Potter.” 

Theo moves further down and snuggles closer to Boris. Boris likes him there. Theo has a spot under Boris’s throat he likes to nose at, breathe him in and sometimes even sleep. He moves his head to give Theo access and it doesn’t take long for Boris to feel the ghost of Theo’s breath there. Boris doesn’t say anything else that night, he’s said enough for now. Theo doesn’t either. He falls asleep at some point but Boris still can’t. He feels calmer though, maybe opening himself up just a little helped settle his uneasiness this night. But in the end it doesn’t change anything because what’s happened is done. Theo can’t change what he did and said and Boris can’t change the things he has said and done in the past either. He can regret it sure, but he can’t live his life all on regrets, that isn’t healthy. And he’s not angry, not at Theo or at himself, it is what it is and he’s happy where he is now. So what if from time to time he can’t sleep properly because he’s scared of his own mind? Lots of people surely experience a similar thing. Tomorrow he will feel better about this anyway. 

He falls asleep at some point, but wakes up with no dreams. Only a painful reminder in his neck that Theo was right about the couch not being made for sleeping. He stretches and looks around. The flat is cold after a night with the radiators off. Boris doesn’t mind the cold too much, it’s usually Theo who can’t stand it. Speaking of Theo, Boris pokes his head out from underneath the duvet. He surveys his surroundings, in the kitchen Theo is cooking pancakes while holding Popchik close to his chest. The dog noses curiously at the stack of freshly made pancakes that lies on a plate. Boris sees Theo shake his head but he does pick up a pancake and gives a piece of it the dog. Popchik munches happily and Theo looks fondly at him, and to Boris’s great surprise he kisses Popchik on top of his head. After, like nothing has happened he goes back to his cooking and hums slowly to himself. Boris feels his heart tug, he loves these moments. Where Theo is unguarded and open, unaware of being looked at. He’s beautiful, and Boris can’t stand staying there any longer. So he gets up and makes his way into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around Theo from behind so he just about can rest his head on Theo’s shoulder.

“Morning.” Theo says. Boris doesn’t say anything, just hugs Theo closer. Theo seems to understand the wordless gesture and doesn’t say much. He goes back to his cooking and when it’s all done he turns off the stove and puts Popchik down on the ground. He turns around and faces Boris and leans down slowly. Boris tilts his head up and their lips meet. The kiss is quick and chaste, but it’s nice. Theo then takes a step back and says:

“Breakfast is ready.”

“Okay Potter.” Boris grabs some plates and sits down by the table. Popchik follows them and sits by Theo’s feet but quickly starts begging for attention. Theo rolls his eyes but can’t seem to ignore him today. He lifts him up and places him in his lap.

“Stupid dog.” He mutters but Popchik seems content where he is now, so Theo scratches him behind his ear.

And Boris, well he smiles, he can’t do much more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished it today and couldn't be bothered to send it off to my beta hehe so I just posted it, so there might be more spelling mistakes this time around. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading, and also a massive thanks to everyone who left a comment, here and on tumblr, it makes me so happy!
> 
> Happy monday!

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I'll make this into a coherent chapter fic. But there might be some more outtakes of their life to come. 
> 
> I struggled a little to find the right 'voice' for this. I'm not sure I am fully happy with this but it's the best I think I can get it at the moment. I do like the idea of them sharing a life together will bring some sort of healing and peacefulness they've never had before because that's what they deserve. Obviously love doesn't heal all wounds and make everything alright. But for them, well they deserve to live happy and in peace.
> 
> As usual this is edited by my gal Ellie (flyingeliska.tumblr.com) always on my ass about the commas and the full stops. Thanks thooo, my writing would never see the day of light if it wasn't for you.
> 
> I'm beeexx.tumblr.com if you want to know.


End file.
